Includes previously publishing novellas - Getting off the Ground, Infinity Pools, & On the List
Author: L.A. Witt
Format: ebook
Excerpt (Getting off the Ground):
CHAPTER 1
This is just what I need.
White sand beaches. Palm trees. Two weeks, give or
take a day, in paradise with gorgeous, available men wearing more suntan lotion
than clothing.
I put down the travel brochure and glared at the
motionless aircraft just beyond the window. Not that I could see it very well;
its white fuselage was nearly camouflaged behind the snow that tumbled out of
the gray sky and spun and swirled in the heavy wind.
A freak snowstorm when I was trying to get the
hell out of here. Yeah, that was what
I needed.
The other passengers milled around the gate,
waiting with knitted eyebrows and folded arms. Anytime one of the staff members
went near the microphone to make an announcement or call for a specific
passenger, everyone stiffened and craned their necks, waiting for updates.
Worried phone calls were made, tense breaths were taken and released, and the
floor vibrated with the faint percussion of pacing feet.
A narrow aisle divided my row of stiff, faux
leather chairs from a facing row. The woman sitting across from me between two
bored-looking kids leaned forward.
“Do you think our flight will be delayed again?”
she asked.
I glanced out the window once more. I hadn’t seen
anything take off in at least two hours, and it didn’t look like that was
changing any time soon. Nodding, I faced her again. “Yeah, they’ll probably
delay it again.”
She pursed her lips. “Well, hopefully we won’t be
stuck here too much longer.” She sat back, staring out the same window and
folding her hands in her lap.
“Guess we’ll see,” I muttered.
A few seats over from her, a good-looking guy with
sandy blond hair and five o’clock shadow looked up from his laptop. He glanced
at her, then me, and a vague look of amusement tried to curl the corner of his
mouth before he turned his attention back to the screen.
I wondered how the hell he was so relaxed when
everyone else walked the fine line between concern and panic. Unlike those of
us who wouldn’t truly be on vacation until we landed in Honolulu, he was
dressed like his vacation had already begun. He didn’t look at all like someone
stranded in Seattle during a surprise blizzard.
It wasn’t just the sandals, khaki shorts, and
tasteful blue Hawaiian shirt with the top button undone, either. His feet were
propped up on his suitcase and crossed at the ankles, the computer balanced on
his knees, and he didn’t look like he gave a shit or even noticed what was
going on all around him. He’d been there for the last hour or two, and he’d
barely batted an eye when the first delay was announced. Nor the second. When
the snow came down harder, he’d looked, but no reaction registered on his face.
At first I wondered if he’d had a few drinks or
maybe thrown back a Valium like my mother always did when she flew, but that theory
went out the window when I watched his hands for a moment. Judging by the way
his fingers moved on the keyboard, he was playing a game. It was easy to tell,
even from here: the same keystrokes, over and over, and sometimes his brow
furrowed and lips tightened as those keystrokes quickened. Then he’d exhale,
shake his head, and punch in some other command before resuming the repetitive
motions.
He was way too alert to be drugged but appeared,
aside from momentary displays of frustration with his game, completely relaxed
and unperturbed. He must have been one of those people who didn’t get pissed
off in traffic jams, either. One of those aggravatingly relaxed ones who just
turned up the radio, tapped the beat into the steering wheel with his thumbs, all
the while reminding himself over and over, “I’ll get there eventually, no sense
getting stressed over it.” I, meanwhile, would be three cars back,
white-knuckling the wheel and praying for sweet death if it meant not sitting
there for another two minutes. Once our plane finally boarded and took off,
this guy would probably be sound asleep for the entire flight while I drummed
my fingers on a shared armrest and tried in vain to get comfortable.
His eyes flicked up and met mine, and I quickly
shifted my gaze away, my cheeks burning as I wondered just how long I’d been
absently staring at him.
It wasn’t only his relaxed state that had drawn my
attention. He was definitely easy on the eyes. The loose sleeves of his
Hawaiian shirt were just short enough to hint at his well-toned biceps, and his
sculpted forearms, tanned and lightly dusted with dark blond hair, didn’t
belong to someone who spent all his
time fucking off and playing video games. His legs were similarly toned and
bronzed. Chiseled jaw, prominent cheekbones, and—
And I was staring again.
I cleared my throat and turned to riffle through
my carry-on bag. I didn’t actually need anything out of it, but it gave me
something to focus on besides Mr. Calm, Collected, and Fucking Hot.
“Attention passengers waiting for flight
two-zero-five bound for Honolulu International Airport,” the flight attendant’s
voice crackled over the loudspeaker, giving me something else to think about. “Due
to snow conditions here at Sea-Tac, this flight will be delayed another two
hours.” A collective groan rippled through the crowd and drowned out her sincerest apologies for the
inconvenience. The guy in the Hawaiian shirt pursed his lips and muttered
something under his breath, but otherwise didn’t react.
I looked at my watch. It was ten past noon. As of
now, our flight wouldn’t be leaving until at least three, and that assumed the
weather cleared up. If it got to be four or five in the evening, the
sun—wherever the fuck it was—would be going down. Even if the snow stopped
coming down, the temperature wouldn’t be rising, and that meant only one thing:
ice.
Glancing around the terminal, I made note of
several other gates that were crowded with impatient-looking souls. It wasn’t a
terribly busy travel day and it was off-peak season, so it wasn’t wall-to-wall
people like it would have been in June or around Thanksgiving. Still, there
were a hell of a lot of people stranded like myself and the mother who fretted
and fidgeted across from me. A lot of people who weren’t going anywhere anytime
soon.
I pulled my laptop out of its case and powered it
up.
I’d promised myself this wouldn’t be another
vacation full of neurotic pre-planning or doing things just to be on the safe
side. This would be as close to reckless as Elliott Chandler was capable of
being.
Still, this was an extenuating circumstance, and I
convinced myself that even my devil-may-care partner—ex-partner—wouldn’t have argued.
When my computer finished starting up, I paused to
look at the desktop background I’d put up last night. It was a screenshot of my
to-do list on this trip.
——
1. Cancel a reservation at the last minute.
2.
3. Some random guy I haven’t met yet.
4.
5.
Sex on the beach.
6.
——
I chuckled to myself. Only I would make a to-do
list for a damned vacation, especially one that may as well have just said, stop planning and go get laid, dumbshit.
And only I would consider cancelling a reservation at the last minute to be
wild and reckless. Knowing me, it wouldn’t turn out to be anything riskier than
canceling a dinner reservation and eating someplace else at the last second.
Yeah, I was extreme.
Oh, well. The very fact that I was still taking
this trip was unusual by my standards, especially since I was going alone. I
wasn’t supposed to be going alone,
but why let both expensive honeymoon tickets go to waste?
After logging into the airport’s obscenely
overpriced wireless network, I did a quick search of nearby hotels. There was
no sense paying for a shuttle and going home for the night; if the weather was
bad enough to cancel my flight, then I didn’t relish the idea of being driven
in it, either. My house was an hour away in decent weather. It would easily be
three hours or more in this shit, with the added risk of a wreck because of ice
or low visibility. No, thanks.
A hotel was clearly the more prudent option, and a
few clicks later, I had a reservation for tonight. A larger and more expensive
room than I’d wanted, but it was all that was available, so I took it. While my
computer shut down, I pulled out my cell phone. There were a few missed calls,
which didn’t surprise me. That was exactly why my phone had been on silent
since last night anyhow.
They could wait a minute. I dialed the hotel.
A female voice picked up on the other end. “Front
desk, how may I help you?”
“I just made a reservation online for tonight,” I
said. “I’d like to confirm that it came through. Last name is Chandler.”
“One moment, please.” Keys clicked in the
background. Then, “Elliott Chandler?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I have you down for a non-smoking room with two
queen beds for one night. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Looks like you got one of
the last available rooms for tonight.”
I forced a laugh even though my mind reeled with what if I’d waited another ten minutes to
make the call? “Guess I booked it just in time.”
“Yes, you did,” she said. “We’ll see you this
evening, Mr. Chandler.”
“Thank you.”
With that out of the way, I scrolled through my
missed calls. My mom again. My sister Cassie. I wasn’t sure if it should have
surprised me or not that Ben, my ex as of much too recently, had called twice. Maybe
it should have, maybe it shouldn’t have, but it damn sure did. The only thing I
wanted to hear from him right now was, “I’ll be moved out by the time you get
back.” That much could be contained in a voice mail, and he hadn’t left one.
I didn’t feel like talking to my mom, and I was not calling Ben anytime soon, but Cassie
was always a welcome diversion.
“Hey, Ell,” she said when she answered. “How are
you holding up?”
“I’ll live.”
“God, I hope so,” she said, a hint of a laugh in
her voice. “But, I’m serious, how are—wait, where are you?”
“The airport.”
“The…airport?” she sputtered. “You’re not…I
thought you were joking about going.”
“I was,” I said. “But then I decided it was a good
idea, so here I am.”
“Wow.” She exhaled. “So, you’re actually taking a
honeymoon by yourself?”
I laughed dryly. “I don’t think it qualifies as a
honeymoon anymore now that I’m going by myself.”
Mr. Calm and Cool’s eyes flicked toward me for a
split second. The woman across from me raised her eyebrows. I buried my gaze in
my carry-on bag.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.
“Spend two weeks in Hawaii pretending I didn’t
just get dumped, I guess,” I said. “We had all kinds of things planned, so—”
“Jesus, Ell,” she said. “Only you would plan every
minute of your damned honeymoon.”
“I didn’t plan every minute of it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, fine, I did.” I laughed again, but didn’t
put much effort into it. “Yes, the whole trip is planned down to the last minute,
but at least it’s better than moping around the house.”
“True. I can’t argue with that.” She sighed. “Are
you sure you’ll be okay? After what happened?”
“Not like I’m the first guy to get stood up at the
altar.”
The squeak of movement on leather made me
instinctively look up, and the mother across from me met my eyes. Her eyebrows
were up, so I had no doubt she’d overheard me. I dropped my gaze again.
“You’re not the first,” Cassie said. “But that
doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Shouldn’t you take some time to deal with it?”
“I am, Cass. That’s why I’m going. Maybe it’ll
give him time to move his crap out of the house while I’m gone. I just, I need
to be as far from him as I can get right now.”
A sharp breath preceded more movement in front of
me. I glanced up as the woman and her kids collected their things. She shot me
a disgusted look just before they moved to another row of seats.
I didn’t have the energy to get offended and didn’t
bother rolling my eyes. I didn’t care. It had been less than twenty-four hours
since the man who was supposed to love me decided to ditch me at our own
wedding. Anyone who didn’t like two men getting married could shove their
judgment right up their ass at this point.
“You still there?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah, sorry,” I said. “Just got…distracted.”
“That doesn’t surprise me right now.” She blew out
a breath. “Well, have fun on your trip.”
“I will, assuming the plane ever gets off the
ground.”
“Oh, shit, yeah,” she said. “They said on the news
they’re canceling flights left and right. You still going to make it out of
there tonight?”
“Hopefully.”
She was quiet for a moment. “You sound way too okay with that. Are—oh, wait. You have a
backup plan, don’t you?”
I laughed. “Of course I have a backup plan.”
“You would. Listen, I have to run, but try to have
a good time, okay?”
“Will do.”
“Put it on your to-do list or something.”
“Shut up.”
“Bye, Ell.”
Chuckling, I hung up and slid my phone back into
my pocket. As I sat back, I caught Mr. Calm and Cool’s eye. A ghost of a grin
gave his lips the most mouthwatering shape and added a devilish sparkle to his
eyes.
Those sparkling blue eyes darted toward the empty
seats across from me, then to the place the woman and her kids had parked
themselves, then back to me. The grin broadened.
“Was it something I said?” he asked.
I laughed again and shrugged. “More like something
I said.”
He threw a dismissive gesture in her direction. “Fuck
her.”
“I’d rather not, thanks,” I muttered.
He snickered and dropped his feet from on top of
his suitcase to the floor. Laptop in one hand, leather case slung over his
other shoulder, he toed his suitcase across the floor. He set everything else
in one of the seats the woman and her kids had occupied. Before he took a seat
himself, he extended his hand.
“Derek Windsor.”
I shook his hand. “Elliott Chandler.”
He dropped into the chair opposite me and leaned
back, crossing his feet at the ankles and lacing his fingers behind his head.
As he’d been all along, the very picture of relaxed.
“So, what’s taking you to Hawaii?” I asked. “Business
or pleasure?”
“Actually, I’m heading home,” he said. “I was in
Denver on business, stopped into Seattle for a few days to visit family, and
now I’m on my way home.”
“You live in Hawaii?”
He nodded. “Maui, actually.”
Damn. Wrong island. “Must be nice.”
He shrugged. “Oh, the novelty wears off after a
while, but I do love it.” He threw a smirk toward the windows. “I certainly don’t
miss the snow.”
“I could do without it myself,” I grumbled.
“Ah, come on now, it doesn’t snow here that much.”
He paused. “Or, is this just a stopover for you?”
“No, no, I live here,” I said. “And I do like it.
Aside from the”—I gestured at the window—“humidity.”
Derek laughed. “Just wait until you get to Hawaii.
That, my friend, is humidity.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Never been there?”
I shook my head. “Haven’t done a lot of traveling,
I’m afraid.” I leaned back and slung one arm across the back of the chair
beside me, trying to look a hell of a lot more relaxed than I felt. Though I
had to admit, Derek’s calm-amidst-the-storm demeanor was contagious. People
like that usually just served to remind me how wound up I was. Derek may as
well have been kneading my shoulders and whispering in my ear right then.
I wish, I
thought as I stole another glance at his arms.
I cleared my throat. “Any recommendations for a
clueless tourist?”
He smiled. “I thought I heard you saying you’d
planned every minute of your trip.” He paused, then quickly added, “Not that I
was trying to eavesdrop. You know how it is…” He gestured around the crowd of
passengers.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Bound to overhear
a conversation or two in here. And to answer your question, I did have it all
planned, but I was also planning to have someone with me. Since that plan’s
changed, why not throw the rest out the window with it?”
He gave a slow nod. “Point taken. Which island are
you visiting?”
“Oahu. Staying in Honolulu”
“Hmm. Can’t say I’m familiar enough with Oahu to
help you much. Now, Maui and Molokai? I know those two like the back of my
hand.”
Just my luck.
“Sounds like I picked the wrong island, then.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” His eyes met mine,
and my heart skipped. The water surrounding Hawaii only aspired to be that
blue. “There’s still plenty to do on Oahu. I just wouldn’t be much of a tour
guide.” He brought his hands down, letting one rest on the handle of his
suitcase while he leaned the other elbow on the chair’s armrest. “Are you the
type who likes the more touristy places, or the out of the way things only the
locals know about?”
I chewed my lip. Which type was I? Before today, I was the type who planned everything to the
last minute, never strayed off the beaten path, and took every recommended
precaution. Plus a few extra precautions for good measure. I followed
guidebooks like they were brain surgery manuals.
Yesterday, my perfectly planned world was yanked
out from under my feet. Every plan I’d made from this point forward was
screwed. This morning, when I’d left for the airport, the guidebook remained
beside my bed. Whether it was for spite, or because I just didn’t give a fuck
anymore, I’d left it behind. All I had was a brochure with the number and
address of my hotel.
“Quite honestly,” I said finally, “I don’t know
what type of tourist I am.”
Derek tilted his head and regarded me silently. He
absently traced his lower lip with the tip of his thumb. My own fingertips
tingled, reminding me I wasn’t touching him. As if I’d forgotten.
“Well,” he said, his voice quiet but reaching me
with ease in spite of the voices and movement all around us, “I do have some
friends on Oahu. I could give you their contact information. They know a lot of
the places no one tells the tourists about.”
“They wouldn’t mind a tourist joining them?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Hardly. Some of
the places are just restaurants, secluded beaches, the good hiking trails.
Things like that. Some are”—he glanced at the mother who’d herded her children
away from me, then looked at me and lowered his voice a little more—“friendlier
than others, if you know what I mean.”
My heart sped up. “Are there places like that on
all the islands?”
“There are.” Derek held my gaze. “Some more than
others.”
“More places than others?” I asked. “Or friendlier
than others?”
“Yes.”
I gulped. I really was going to the wrong island.
